


Mixing Metaphors

by appolsaucy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detective Noir, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Puppy!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appolsaucy/pseuds/appolsaucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WHOOPS Derek is a film noir detective puppy, SORRY NOT SORRY</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Metaphors

**Author's Note:**

> Derek [is the cutest](http://www.out-and-about-with-your-dog.com/images/shepherdhusky-mix-21251548.jpg)

_He strolled into the kennel like a long summer day, the kind that wrap around you like a blanket and keep you warm long after they’ve gone. His approach sent the pups into a frenzy, erupting in a swirling mass of fur and happiness the man targeted like a bulls eye. Derek held back—he wasn’t the oldest hat in the joint but he’d been around the block a few times. He’d been held by enough little girls and boys that he knew the cold sting of crushed dreams, the fickle whims of reality._

_But then a shadow passed over his head, large, nimble fingers lifting Derek gently, and Derek knew his life was about to change._

 

“Thanks, Deaton,” Stiles said, signing his name to the last of the paperwork. “Let me just grab all his stuff here and Derek and I will be out of your way. He’s a serious little guy, isn’t he?”

Deaton smiled and passed the leash over as Stiles juggled medical records and his complimentary New Puppy Package under one arm. “Derek seems to have a lot going on beneath the surface, much like some other people I could name. I have a feeling you two will get along well.”

“Fingers crossed!” Stiles agreed cheerfully and ushered Derek out of the vet’s office.

 

_The new place was large, disconcertingly so—a sprawling maze of opportunity and menace, lurking in equal opportunity around every new corner. Someone smarter might have laid low, but Derek knew life didn’t cut pups like him too many breaks and he wasn’t willing to look a gift horse in the mouth when it might be his last ticket out of town. He struck out, pulling himself up the deceptively high stairway and poking around in dark corners until a familiar set of hands tugged him out by his back leg._

_Derek grumbled in consternation—he was sure he’d been about to stumble across something good._

 

“You little weasel,” Stiles grinned. “Look at you finding my dirty socks already. You want some underwear, too, or are you a man of more discerning taste?”

Derek yipped, wiggling in his hands.

“Okay, time for a bath. No more kennel—you’re gonna smell like potpourri by the time I’m done with you.” He tickled Derek’s toes, watching in delight as they kicked at his fingers. “Really masculine potpourri, I mean,” he amended, because he was a 28 year old man living alone with a small dog—he had to maintain standards.

 

_Life proceeded in a similar fashion, an intriguing mix of drudgery and excitement that Derek relished. He learned the house’s secrets quickly, nosing out the good and bad, learning the man’s routines like a paid choreographer. Within no time Derek could guarantee at least half a piece of bacon with his breakfast each morning._

_But bacon didn’t bring Derek any closer to the truth._

_Derek hadn’t been in the neighborhood for long—only three days had passed since the man had swept an appraising gaze over him at the local shelter and plucked him like a daisy from the wriggling, furry depths of a pile of orphans just like him. Derek would never know what stood out to the man, what made him choose Derek as his partner, but Derek was determined to do him proud._

_And walkies were Derek’s time to shine._

“Okay, buddy, yes it’s—no seriously, I get it, time to go outside.” Stiles was so comfortable on the couch, though.

“ _Ouch_ , easy, paws off the merchandise, Rambo, some of us would like to have children at some point. I mean, theoretically. It’s best not to rule these things out, anyway.” Stiles sighed. “You got a dog so you wouldn’t have to talk to yourself, Stiles, just talk to the dog inst—

“Fuck, okay, let’s just quit while we’re ahead, time for walkies.”

 

_Derek strained at the end of the leash, collar already settling comfortably over his coat just like the man’s hand settled comfortably over the fuzz between his ears when they curled up to watch the news at night. He could smell trouble brewing underneath the bright, friendly surface of the neighborhood and he knew he was just the dog to uncover it or die trying._

 

“What are you—you are the most ridiculous puppy, get out of that flowerbed!” Stiles groaned. “I’m going to have to install mudflaps on you if you keep this up.”

Derek ignored his half-serious tug on the leash and leaned harder into the weeds Mrs. Stiegl masqueraded as landscaping. Mud eeked up between his toes. Stiles sighed.

“Derek, I am just one man, I only have time for so many baths in a day.”

_They patrolled the perimeter of the territory, Derek leading the man in and out of danger like a Chihuahua loose in a dog park.  Derek deftly maneuvered them away from the swaying manic arms that reached down from the sky to grab at them, leaving them with a warning growl that they’d heed if they knew what was good for them._

“Oh my God, how are you real?” Stiles asks wonderingly as Derek hops furiously at a pair of stockings on the Johnson’s clothes line. “Hey, maybe if you growl a little louder that’ll—yes, perfect, you sure showed that laundry what’s up. Now let’s get out of here before Bob wants to come out and talk about his wifi connection again.”

 

_They passed screaming children, who Derek interviewed briefly but quickly gave up on, and a handful of nosy squirrels who looked like they’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks. Derek had chased them away before the situation escalated, checking afterward to make sure his human was wasn’t shaken by the squirrels’ screaming. Unpleasant little monsters._

_Derek thought it was going to turn out to be an uneventful day until they turned down the last street of their perimeter, a shadowy street with too many parted curtains for Derek to be comfortable. He checked each yard carefully as they passed, finally choosing one that needed the most work. That’s when it happened._

_Marshmallow, a cat with a large notch out of one ear and even bigger chip on his shoulder, purred loudly as he rounded the mailbox Derek had stopped to mark. He’d never met Marshmallow, but he’d heard of him—and heard him, yowling at night like a ghost with nothing left to live for. Derek wasn’t one to make snap judgments, but if he had to pick a suspect for anything, Marshmallow would be his number one._

_His impudent purrs rattled loudly around Derek’s head, but he resisted the urge to re-aim in the feline’s direction._

“If you piss on that cat, Derek, I swear to God.”

 

_Derek grumbled menacingly back at the cat while he did his business, letting every cat, dog, and canary know this was is territory now and he wouldn’t accept otherwise. Marshmallow flicked his notched ear casually in Derek’s direction, then turned with a swish of his tail and sauntered back to the garden._

_Derek bounded back to the man, confident that he’d solved at least one problem for the day. As for the rest of this fishy neighborhood, well—there’d be walkies tomorrow, too._

 

“Yeah, okay, you’re a good boy, have some treats.” Stiles smiles helplessly as Derek chomps the milkbones delightedly from his fingers.

He picks Derek up and tucks him into his elbow, holding him loosely as Derek wriggles until he’s sitting up straight and alert on Stiles’ forearm.

“As much as I hate to admit Deaton is right about anything,” Stiles tells Derek, “I think we’re probably going to get along just fine, you complete weirdo.”


End file.
